


Cruel

by nerdrumple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:36:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdrumple/pseuds/nerdrumple
Summary: There’s a terror in the village, and the townspeople call upon the Dark One to rid themselves of the demonic creature. But what Rumplestiltskin finds isn’t a demon, but a girl - a girl just like him.





	1. Chase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BistaUss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BistaUss/gifts).



> My RSS from last year. Finally posting to AO3 ...

He stared in wonder. He certainly hadn’t expected this. 

A girl. He was surprised the townsman hadn’t described her as a succubus; she was pretty enough to be mistaken for one. Long chestnut hair cascading in beautiful curls against milky skin. Those little tricksters could be more innocent looking than sultry when they needed to be. But this girl, she was no demon, as the townsman had sworn she was. _Help, please, save us from the demon terrorizing our town! It’ll eat our children in the night, murder our women, slaughter our livestock! Help! Help!_ Foolish man. She wasn’t a succubus or ghoul or imp or shadow creature; she was none of those things.

She was like him.

He hadn’t seen another like him for several, several years. Centuries, maybe? How old was he, again?

A story was niggling in the back of his brain, one of another kingdom begging for his help. Our daughter, something has happened to her, something has transformed her, save her, please. He didn’t respond to every call, and he hadn’t responded to that one. There was nothing they could offer him - let the girl rot, for all he cared. But surely this was the girl! And she hadn’t rotted, not one bit. He was certain every hair and jot of her skin was the same as that day they’d called on him - so this was what they’d meant by transformation!

She’d outlived her kingdom, that was for sure. And now she was here, was again brought into the opportunity of his clutches. This time he’d take her.

Pursuing her was easy enough, even a bit of a thrill for the chase she gave! She was swift like him, agile like him. But not swift or agile enough.

A look of terror took over her features as he held her down, fallen in the dirt, her back buried in the dark forest with his claws pinning her down by the shoulders. He could see her fear perfectly in the moonlight. When was the last time she’d felt fear, been hunted? She was used to being the hunter. How delicious this was.

“You’ve made a nuisance of yourself, dearie,” he cooed.

She stopped her struggle, staring up at him with wide eyes, blue at their centers and rimmed in black. Lovely creature. Watching realization slowly dawn on her was entertaining, to say the least. And her look of absolute awe of him confirmed his suspicion: she hadn’t run into another like herself in a long time, either.

“I’ve been . . . careful,” she said, her voice sending a chill through him. Clear as a bell, crystal clinking, smooth waves to his ears.

“Not careful enough,” he said with a wicked smile.

“No one has died. Not a soul. No one’s been terribly hurt.” She shook again, trying to free herself out from under him, but he merely jostled her back into position.

“Doesn’t matter. That they knew you were here at all speaks enough of your blunder.”

“I would never harm anyone, not truly,” she protested uselessly; it was important to her that he understood this. As though he’d care whether she’d murdered or not.

“Foolish girl,” he chided. “Harm is what we’re built for.”

He readjusted himself, his thigh falling between her legs, and her eyes widened. “Not that kind of harm,” he said, shifting away. “I’m not cruel.”

He crawled off of her, yanking her up to join him by his side. He kept a firm grasp on her wrists in case she got any ideas of running again. Not that another chase wouldn’t thrill him.

“You’re coming with me,” he said.

“With you?” she said, her face still full of apprehension. He didn’t miss the occasional dart of her eyes, looking for an escape.

“Well, that’s what they dealt me for.”

“Dealt? Deal? I’m a deal?”

“Yes, they wanted me to get rid of you, stop you from preying on the town. Destroy the nuisance lurking in the woods.”

“They wanted you to destroy me?” she stuttered, not looking at him. He was aware that she kept echoing him in an attempt to prolong their encounter, to keep him from doing whatever cruel thing she was anticipating. Silly girl. Let her fret, he thought with a smug grin.

“Well, yes, but I think I have a better use for you than that.” He leaned in, and she stiffened, finally looking at him, but didn’t lean back. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone like me, you see.”

She blinked up at him, and nodded slowly.

“You too, I take it.”

She blinked again, nodded again. “Who are you?”

“Rumplestiltskin!” he trilled, spinning her with a flourish, pressing her back into his chest. “Come with me, won’t you?” he whispered into the shell of her ear.

Shaken, she tried to turn back to look at him, but his grip wouldn’t allow it. She found her eyes darting again. “Why? What do you want with me?”

“I'm not sure yet,” he said with another wicked smile, taking in a breath of her hair. “But surely the blood of our kind could make for some fascinating spells and rituals.”

“Haven’t tried it with yourself?” she said, and he tilted his head.

“Can’t risk myself, dear. I’ve just been waiting for the right guinea pig to come along, and here you are. Something tells me I’m going to have fun. Our blood must be potent stuff.”

He was right, she knew. Their blood did carry its own intense kind of magic.

An idea came to her.

“Do I have a choice?” she asked.

“Of course not!” he sing-songed. “Try to run and I’ll hunt you down, try to fight and I’ll curse you!” She felt his body jostling against her to the tune of his words, a dance that unnerved her.

“Curse me?” her eyes widened in thought. “Spells, rituals . . . Rumplestiltskin . . . you’re the Dark One, aren’t you? So that’s why they were all talking about you . . . ”

“Talking about _me_ to get rid of _you_ ,” he sang again. “They summoned me, and here I am. So, what will it be?”

He finally turned her face to look at him, a delicate hand on her chin, and her eyes shone against the moon in a brief moment of wonder, as though she were honestly considering the consequences. She blinked at him, and a small smile started to play on her lips.

“I’ll go with you.”

He smiled in return, releasing her chin and lifting his hand, readying his magic to whisk them off.

“Has your skin always looked like that?”

His hand paused in midair. “Do you really want to ask the Dark One that question?”

“You said we were alike . . . but my skin isn’t like that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of us with skin like that.” She reached for him before he could stop her, touching his outreached arm with both of her tiny hands, her fingers running over his hand and into his sleeve, pulling it back to reveal more of his flesh.

He shivered, then scowled. “We’re not entirely the same, dearie. You don’t have any magic. And I wasn’t born with it either, mine was . . . inherited. And all magic comes with a price. I inherited a few more things than the ability to turn you into a toad, and some of those things are of a physical quality.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she said slowly. “But I think you believe it’s true. You truly don’t remember when your skin started to look like this?”

He scowled again, thoroughly annoyed. “It _truly_ hasn’t occurred to you that I’m _more_ than you are? Why I have magic and you don’t? That perhaps --”

But her lips were brushing lightly over his hand, making him pause. Was she listening to him at all? He was about to reprimand her when he felt her opening her mouth to the flesh between his thumb and index finger.

“What are you-?”

She bit him, and he gasped from the sensation.

He wanted to yank his hand away and throw her down. But she kept her grip firm, and when she sucked and pulled her first swallow of blood from him, he let out an involuntary groan.

“What are you . . . ?” he said one last time, and then he was gone.

She was drinking from him, and it felt incredible. Never had one of his own kind drank from him! The thought rarely if ever occurred, and when it did, the act seemed too intimate and vulnerable to allow. But now he knew.

He should pull back, his mind screamed, but instead he found himself drawing closer. He pressed his hand to her more firmly, and she cradled his hand in her own, fingers delicate and loving and brushing her own lips as she sucked down on him. Her other hand caressed his forearm gently, and the pleasure of the sensation doubled, tripled, as she drew more blood from him.

Heat was seeping into every corner of him, but nowhere as strong as against her backside. He bucked involuntarily, too lost in the sensation to be embarrassed, not yet, and let his head fall down into her curls. He wanted to search out her neck, wanted to bite her too, but those damn curls were in the way.

Bravado long gone, he tried to mold himself to her, envelope her. It had them toppling forward clumsily.

She pulled away briefly and he whimpered, but she led them to the ground, landing on their knees and thankfully remaining upright. She turned his wrist up and sank her teeth into it again. The new bite was harder and more thorough, and he called out loudly, another whimper mixed with a needy yell. His breath was coming in angry pants now, and how wonderfully scorching it felt. When was the last time he’d felt out of breath?

He wrapped his free hand around her middle, nearly forgetting he had it available to touch her. He could reach up and yank her head back, he thought, expose her neck and draw blood for himself. But that would risk tearing her mouth from him. Instead he found himself kneading his hand into her, pulling at her side in a funny way until his hand was drifting up to her breast. Her body trembled as he groped her, and he was vaguely aware that it wasn’t pleasure that had her stiffening, but fear again. Yet she continued to suck at him.

The heat rushing through him was clouding his brain, creating a haze in his vision and choking him somewhere in his throat. He pressed his forehead down onto her shoulder and moaned again, bucked again. He tried to open his eyes but the forest swam before him, mixing into her hair and falling into the black sky. He was lost, so lost.

His mouth started opening to her shoulder, knawing gently at the leather covering her, tongue probing, but he didn’t quite have the strength to pierce her. He was lost inside a dark haze of lust the more she drank from him, and he found himself tugging impatiently at the neckline of her clothing to no avail. He moved his hand down instead, no tease to the action, cupping her between her legs and it was her turn to moan. He smiled.

He used his grip on her as an anchor, thrusting gently against her back while he ground his fingers between her legs. Her teeth wouldn’t let him go and he didn’t want her to. He pressed harder, pushing her rear into him, and smiled again when he felt the small wiggle of her hips against his palm.

He heard her hiss through her nose hotly, her breath becoming as uneven as his. He thrust against her harder, his movements losing their rhythm, if they’d had any at all. He was erratic against her, one hand pulling hard into her mouth, the other pushing hard at her center, the weight as heavy as his cock along her backside. He was frantic, the chase of his climax just ahead of him, as though her teeth were the deciding factor, her lips had to give him permission. With one last long suck from him, she finally allowed him to find release, his body jerking behind her, arms hugging tight around her as he ground against her and spilled himself.

His muscles gave out on him, and he collapsed against her. She expected this, turning around and catching him, laying him gently to the ground. She kept a firm hold on his wrist, blood still dribbling from the wounds she’d given him, her thumbs drawing reassuring circles as he continued to tremble. His mind was returning to him slowly, and he tried to speak, but only a silly moan came out.

“I'm right, you know,” she said, and he tried to look at her, but just saw the moon. “Whatever other magical properties you'd like to brag about, your skin isn't one of them. That's something from my kind. Our kind. You're sick, I think. I can taste it in your blood.”

His head moved from side to side, and he growled. Gods, did she have magic after all? What spell had she just cast? Whatever it was, it was over, and he’d make her pay now. He lunged forward, but found his limbs too weak to work properly. She eased him back down to the ground with an infuriating gentleness. “Careful, Rumplestiltskin,” she cooed, “I’m afraid you need a moment, Rumple.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” he slurred, but he could hear the slur in her voice as well. She hadn’t been as unaffected by their encounter as she was pretending to be.

“Look at me,” she encouraged, and he blinked at the first sharp image his sight regained: his blood smeared across her chin. “Look at me, Rumple. Do you see the pink in my cheeks? The brightness to my eyes? Do you see the vitality your blood has given me? How it’s revived me, to something more robust and human than before?”

But he didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to listen. What had she just _done_ to him? She’d taken advantage of him! Taken liberties, made him vulnerable! After she’d expressed fear that he’d do the same to her! How _dare_ she!

“You said you hadn’t met one of our kind in a long while,” she whispered. “Well, it shows,” she said, rubbing his wrist again with purpose. “Sorry, but I’d rather not go with you, if that’s all right. Goodbye, Rumple.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” he repeated, determined, deadly. But she was rising now, her face gone from his vision. Gods, she was getting away! Look what the minx had done to him!

She took several steps back from him, afraid to turn just yet, and watched as he writhed slowly on the ground, the total of her feeding taking its toll on him. It wouldn’t last long. She had him down, her plan was successful, but now she needed another.

She made her way out of the small clearing he’d tackled her in, and headed for the thick woods. Before she left, she heard him mutter “ _You’re_ the cruel one, dear, and when I find you again . . .”

She didn’t stick around to hear him finish.


	2. Hide

She ran. 

As fast as she could, through woods and brambles and mud. The ground was slick, it had started to rain. That was for the better, water would help to mask her scent. Her feet were growing clumsy as she slipped once or twice in the mud; where had her grace gone? Perhaps the feeding had affected her as well. Fear and the thrill of what she’d just done had her trembling, and who knew what he’d do to her once he caught up to her.

But she didn’t hear him behind her, didn’t hear the squelch of puddles as he made his way after her. Perhaps he was swifter, more deft. Or perhaps he wasn’t pursuing her after all. Not yet, anyway.

She didn’t chance it by looking back, though. She ran straight for the river, praying he wasn’t as familiar with the area as she. Once there, she threw herself over the riverbank and straight in, thoroughly dousing her scent from him. Now, where to go? One way led to territory she’d never explored, the other led back to the village. Where would he expect her to go? Further away, surely, and not back to the scene where he’d found her. Besides, the town had become her playground. She knew where to hide, where to wait. It would be safer there, surely.

She headed back towards the village, treading and swimming as the depth of the river called for in turn. When she came across the familiar windmill, she steered herself back towards the bank. If he somehow knew to follow her this way, she didn’t want it to be obvious where she’d exited, didn’t want to leave obvious tracks in the mud. So, best as she could, she leapt over the bank, scrambling for a tree, and leapt through several more until she felt safe enough to place her feet on the ground.

The sun was starting to rise, and she turned towards it with a greeting smile. She didn’t want to congratulate herself too early on her escape, but the radiant beams seemed to be a sign of victory. She held her hands up for a moment, wondering if he could walk in sunlight, or if the condition of his skin was an indicator of weakness in that area.

This farm was where she’d hid until she’d felt courageous enough to enter the village, which had turned out to be foolish. But she had needed to feed, and the farm animals weren’t sustainable enough, especially since she’d tried very hard not to drain any. There was the farmer, of course, a deaf man on his way to being blind. She’d hid in his house, moving from room to room, and while he couldn’t hear her, he could feel her in the floorboards. 

He’d called out to her, “Abigal! Abigal! Come back to me!” His late wife, surely, for he was a widower. She’d taken pity on him more than one night and stepped into his arms, letting him believe she was his love come back to haunt him. And he’d tilted his neck for her, weeped with loss and longing as she took from him. Eventually the deception started to weigh heavily on her heart, and when he’d cry out for Abigal again she didn’t know if it would be crueler to go to him or stay hidden. 

She avoided the house and headed for the barn instead, hoping the rain would wash away the scent of her path from the Dark One. The rain had waned to a light patter and her brow creased with worry. Her scent would stink up the barn for sure, if he ever managed to find it.

The animals bristled at her entrance, and she tried to hide herself in the shadows so they wouldn’t make too much noise. Moving along the stalls she came across a large copper basin, and an idea came to her.

She hauled the basin up into the loft, and then emptied the rain barrels around the barn into it, effectively drawing herself a frigid bath. If she could stow away in it for a few days, she might avoid the Dark One altogether. Surely? It was a risk she had to take. 

She briefly considered stripping down, but couldn’t think of a reliable place to hide her clothes that would mask their scent. With a frustrated sigh, she resigned herself to sinking into the water fully dressed. She was already soaking from the river, anyway.

She did her best to bundle her billowing sleeves around herself, and braid her hair. She didn’t want anything floating up to the surface to give her away. Though her blood ran cold these days, she still flinched when she took her first step into the water. It felt sharper than the river had. But she’d drank from the Dark One, after all, and that event had left a glowing warmth in her, growing hotter by the minute, making her feel more human than she had in years. She shivered and willed herself to sink down to her knees, then sit properly and fold down until the water was up to her chin. With another resigned sigh, she sank underneath the water.

Too afraid to sleep, she let her eyes remain open, allowing the cold to sting them. She stared up past the water’s surface, hoping she would be able to sense an intruder by the play of light along the barn. Despite her keen vision, the water kept her from seeing clearly.

Her exhaustion was catching up with her. After a few hours in the bath (just how long had it been? Was the sun starting to dip?) she felt her mind drifting, exactly where she didn’t want it to go. To the way he’d tasted, to the way he’d touched her. It was just a reaction to her bite, she told herself, but she felt herself growing warm anyway. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched like that.

The pressure of his hands had nearly wound her up as tight as she’d wound him, and he’d been able to find release where she hadn’t allowed herself to. She could now, she told herself. But she gripped her hands firmly by her sides in the cold water, nails digging into her palms, telling herself  _ no no no _ . Don’t think of him. And if she did, she needed to set her mind straight. He’d had plans for her, and they couldn’t be good plans. He’d wanted her blood. Gods, what if thinking about him accidentally summoned him?

Her eyes were closing, the war inside herself fading as she unwillingly gave way to sleep, his face and that strange skin swimming before her.

When she woke, it was her human instinct to leap out of the water. Gods, I’ve drowned! Water spilled from her lungs, and her hands ran over her face, rubbing her eyes and pushing back the wet strands of her hair. As the memories of yesterday (or longer?) came back to her, she stilled her movements, stiffening with fear. What if he was here? What if she’d just given herself away? She lowered herself back into the bath, shivering from the cold and anger at her stupidity. 

She let herself sink just up to her nose, keeping her ears aloft the seam of water. She listened, was he here? She could hear the animals, their snorts and kicks and rapid heartbeats over the startle her ruckus had caused. She cursed herself. Would the farmer come, or the stablehands who helped him? How often did they come, again? If the Dark One came, would she be able to distinguish his sounds from theirs? Should she leave?

No, no, stay, she told herself, sinking further into the water. Carry out your plan. Wait him out. Let the water hide you.

She was better about keeping herself awake. Though she couldn’t make out details of the barn above her, she could watch the light of the sun rise and set. One day. Two. Another. The blood she’d taken from him had given her a boost greater than human blood, but it’d also made her antsy. She hated this tub, wanted to leave. But not yet. Not yet. 

If she waited another three days she’d need blood regardless. Could she wait that long? Just as she was considering the feat, she heard a drawing noise followed by a clank, and movement that throttled the water of her bath, the surface breaking in light ripples.

_ No. _

Properly hidden by the water, there was no reason to fear he’d find her. If it was even him. She saw an uneven pattern run over the sunlight above her, a shadow standing from far off. An afternoon sun, casting itself from the entrance of the barn, bringing a shadow towards her. And it was definitely the shadow of a man. 

The shadow disappeared. A small bubble escaped her lips and drifted to the water’s surface. She cursed herself, involuntary trembling taking over. It was probably just the farmer, probably just a stablehand. The animals hadn’t complained, everything was probably well. 

Wait, no, was that a horse whinny? Gods, was it him? Should she leap out now, try to run before he got too close? No,  _ no, _ wait, wait.

The horse continued to whinny, and she heard hooves clacking down. She stayed quiet and didn’t move, waiting, waiting. The light above her darkened and grew light again. No other sounds disturbed the barn and she let out a sigh of relief that she only too late realized would result in another bubble floating to her tub surface. Gods! What had she done?

Claws gripped her hair violently, her scalp screaming as her head was suddenly yanked from the water.


	3. Drink

“Turnabout is fair play, dearie,” he said behind her, somewhere between a bark and a laugh. 

She had little time to think, no time to turn around, no time to pull away. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her close, yanking her head to the side. She knew it was coming before his teeth sank in.

He clamped onto her neck while she coughed up water frantically, her eyes rolling in her head. But the feeling of his teeth burst through her at alarming speed. She’d been bitten before, long ago, but couldn’t quite remember the action being this heated. The cold of the water below her and the chill against her skin as she was brought to the surface disappeared, being replaced by flames as he summoned her blood to his mouth.

Her feet scrambled inside the tub for purchase, but he held her up at an awkward angle, her lower body dangling. The weight of her drenched clothes clinging to her only added to her scrambling. Sensing her dilemma and seeming to actually care about it, he hoisted her higher, until she was sitting atop the tub edge and leaning against his chest. Her assumption of his concern for her comfort was short-lived, however, when he dragged her the rest of the way out of the tub. She kicked frantically, managing to send the tub over on its side towards them, the small flood of water overtaking them and causing him to fall with her on top of him. He didn’t release his hold around her waist or his teeth from her neck. 

She wriggled atop him, but it was fruitless. The heat was sailing through her and her yelps had shifted into moans. His mouth felt wonderful on her, and her blood raced through her veins, both wanting to escape him and wanting to go to him. The rush of its conflicted path was what sent all that heat through her, she knew, but the pleasure that was overwhelming her was more than she expected. Her mind started to cloud from it all, everything around her disappearing, nothing but his mouth and her overheated skin existing in that moment. And his hands. She keenly felt his fingertips digging into her scalp and waist, rough and delicious, whether or not he meant them to be.

She knew he wasn’t completely unaffected. She could feel his hardness underneath her, pressing against her rear in an echo of their earlier encounter. The memory must have come to him too, for he released her with an angry growl and flipped her over so she was facing him.

“When I first saw you,” he hissed, “I thought perhaps you were a succubus. Turns out I was right,” he said before clamping onto her again, this time the other side of her neck. He rolled them, she underneath him, pinned between the hay filling the loft and his firm body above her. At a loss of what else to do, she wrapped her arms around him, running them over his back and up into his hair, pressing him more firmly to her.

She felt his tongue lapping at her as his teeth pierced deeper, and she cried out. He brought a hand up to cup the other side of her face, and she leaned into the touch. She wrapped her legs around him, trying desperately to grind against him for some much needed friction. He eased his hips away from her, though, teasing her slightly before pressing them to her again. Her nails dug tightly into his back, angry as they clawed at him. Soon she was tearing through his leather, effectively shredding the material and the silks he wore underneath, even dragging lines through his flesh that resulted in open lines of red.

He released her and swore, leaning up and trying to grab for her hands but she brought one to her mouth to lick off his blood. He stared at her in disbelief, and she took advantage of the moment to tear off the rest of his clothing from his upper body. She flipped them, aware of the slight cool of the air now that he wasn’t drinking from her, bits of straw sticking all over her back and hair. 

She ground against his erection, then shifted back to tug at the ties holding his leather breeches together. He watched her in utter confusion at first, watched as she tore at his ties and just before she freed him he managed to swat her hands away and sit up. Before she knew whether to push him back or embrace him, he was using his own claws to tear open her jerkin and shirt underneath, the clothing still wet and sopping. Once she was bare to him, she did nothing to hide her breasts, and he stared up at her for a long moment. Long enough for her to decide to lean in, and his lips didn’t respond to her at first, completely still until she ran a tongue tentatively along their seam. He didn’t open for her, but he softened his lips and was soon kissing her back. He cupped the back of her head, and when the opportunity arose he bit her bottom lip, chuckling as she gasped when her blood filled his mouth.

He soon pulled back with a groan, a glint overtaking his eyes. He pushed her back suddenly; it was a rough shove, his strength sending her sailing back. She twisted in an attempt to right herself but just managed to land on her front and gather a mouthful of hay. Spitting, her mouth still stinging from his third bite on her, she felt his hands brutal on her hips. He was ripping away the leather of her breeches.

“I don’t blame you for dressing like a male,” he said, voice above her head, hot in her ear. “It’s far more comfortable. Not to mention it shapes your curves far better.” He rid her of her leathers and boots, and when she tried to raise up on her arms he shoved her back down. 

He ran his hand softly along her naked rear, caressing her before gripping tightly. He lowered down and kissed her there, and she trembled. He rounded his hand underneath her, reaching between her legs until he found her folds and her slickness.

“So wet,” he cooed, teeth tugging on her gently. “All because I bit you. Who knew that a bout between our kind could garner such a reaction?”

“Clearly not you,” she said breathlessly beneath him, shifting as her breasts were squashed against the floor. He took the movement as encouragement, for he started to play at her entrance.

She could just barely make out his expression behind her shoulder as she tried to look back at him from her position on her front, but he locked his gaze with hers. She smiled as she started to see the amber twinge in his eyes, and knew her blood was already having its effect on him. Before she could say anything, though, he pushed a claw into her, eyes watching hers carefully, grinning as she gasped.

He encouraged her to lift her hips up, and she did, even parted her legs a little. He pumped in and out slowly, causing her to turn her head down, gasping and trembling beneath him. 

“Oh no,” he said, reaching forward and grabbing her chin. “You’ll look at me for this. I want to see you.”

“Turn me around, then,” she pleaded.

“In time,” he said, pushing his thumb forward so it would brush her clit as he continued his rhythm in and out of her. She started to cant her hips up to meet him, and he started to lower himself over her again. “Now,” he said, breath at her shoulder, “where was I?”

He bit her, sucked deeply, pulled back to lave at the mark with his tongue, then bent down to bite her again. It was impossible for her to look at him now, her eyes couldn’t focus, the heat was overtaking her again. His bite was rough and she could feel it tearing at her, and the pain was on par with the pleasure as he continued to move inside her. 

He pulled away briefly to eye her again. “Come,” he demanded. “ _ Come. _ ”

“I can’t,” she managed to breath. “Your cock, please.” 

With a growl he took his hand from her, raised up and flipped her over roughly.

The goal in finding her had been to humiliate her the way she had humiliated him, hunt her down and take what she’d taken from him. But she’d started kissing him again, and he was too far gone not to respond. His lips plucked at hers with fervor, tongue eventually taking over. He hadn’t felt such passions in ages - better to relish in it, he thought.

She could taste her blood on him and it made her head swim. She reached between them to pluck at his ties again, frustrated as they seemed to tangle. With urgent hands she tore them, making him chuckle. But her aim was finally reached, he was free and she was able to stroke him and regain a little of her power.

She shifted and wrapped around him again, and he thrust forward with no preamble, making her cry out. The sound was enough to keep him pumping, nothing gentle, just anger and pleasure. He rolled his hips into her, and she grabbed at his hair. When her teeth grazed his neck, he took no action to stop her, and she bit into him with the same vigor he’d bitten into her.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he said, leaning down to bite her as well. Sucking one another, she trembled uncontrollably beneath him, and he pulled away in time to see her fall, her walls fluttering around him, his blood around her mouth, and he leaned down to lick it as she cried out wordlessly. 

His face blinked back into her vision as she came down, and she smiled at the pink she saw, and the full amber staring back at her. “What?” he asked, voice raw and shaky, his hips continuing to roll forward. She smiled at him cheekily, then leaned forward to bite him.

“ _ Fuck _ , not again,” he said, losing himself to her teeth, and a few thrusts later he was spilling again, this time into her.

She let him go, let him come without her teeth clamped onto him this time, and rubbed her hands up and down his back and he crested and ebbed, soon collapsing helplessly onto her.

He rested on her for long moments, and she let him, watching the top of the barn from her position underneath him. To think, just hours before she was staring at this same ceiling, hiding underneath her water, hiding from him.

He was murmuring something, and she shifted to try and hear him.

“Succubus,” he was mumbling, “you’re a damn succubus.”

She chuckled softly, which turned into a smile of wonder as he lifted up to look at her.

“What?” he asked again.

“Your skin,” she said. 

His eyes crinkled in annoyance. “What about my--” he pulled back, “Ah!” He stared, horror passing over his face. “What have you done?”

“What have  _ you _ done,” she corrected. “You’re the one who bit me.”

Rays of daylight entered the barn, and she was able to see his pink skin clearly, along with the sudden softness of brown in his hair, and the amber in his eyes that hadn’t been there the first time she met him. A grey sheen still existed, but she knew it would fade in time as her blood continued to run through him.

“Bite me again,” she said. “It’s working.”

“What is?” he asked, voice smaller than she’d ever heard it. 

“You’re not sick anymore,” she said. “Well, you’re getting . . .  _ un _ sick. You needed ichor.”

“Ichor,” he said with knowing. “ _ Blood of the Gods _ .”

She nodded.

“We’re not Gods,” he said.

“No,” she said. “But what would another word be? Translations get muddled, you know.”

He stared at her.

“Immortality,” she said. “ _ Gods _ , you know, immortals. We’re immortal.”

“And as immortals we need . . . ichor.”

“Yes,” she said with a funny smile. “From each other. Or we start to look a little . . . shabby. Grey. Molty. Human blood nourishes us, but it doesn’t exactly give us, well.”

The way he kept staring at his hands, and the way they trembled, told her his fears weren’t merely blood related.

“You still have your magic. I told you, I don’t think it’s connected to that. I haven’t  _ transformed _ you.”

“How do you know?” he insisted.

“Well, try something. Make us dry.”

With a wave of his hand the chill of the air was gone and her skin was no longer prickled. Her braid was no longer a soggy rope, but soft strands again.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and she rolled her eyes. To her surprise, he also reached forward and undid her braid, running his fingers through the strands. She wondered if he was aware of his new hair color. She reached up to play with his strands the way he was playing with hers. “Rumple,” she murmured softly.

“ _ Don’t _ call me that,” he said.

“I ran from you, when perhaps I shouldn’t have. You frightened me.”

“Well. I am frightening,” he said, running his fingers over the bites he’d given her.

“And then I hid from you. If you weren’t going to kill me before, I certainly thought you would then.”

“You made me angry, but like I told you before, I’m not cruel.”

“And you don’t hate me?”

“No. In fact, I think I rather like you, Belle of Avonlea.”

Her eyes widened. “So you do know me?”

“Of course. You’re the girl King Maurice and Queen Collette tried so desperately to have me come save.” He remembered the kingdom, one of religious fanatics and violent suspicions. For all he could have guessed at that time, Belle had simply lost her virginity before marriage and her family wanted him to restore her from the ‘monster’ she’d become.

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Would you have wanted me to save you from this?” he asked, tugging gently on one of her curls.

“No,” she said, and he smiled, for even though she didn’t tell him her reasons, he felt they were likely similar to his, and was eager to hear them later.

“I’m glad you didn’t come,” she said.

To that he raised a brow.

“It was much more fun meeting you like this.”

“Fun?” he scoffed with a laugh. “Cruel’s more like it.”


End file.
